


Moonshine

by digthewriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Character, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Pansexual Character, Past Relationship(s), Post-War, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-20 01:10:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14884778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digthewriter/pseuds/digthewriter
Summary: Hannah is Charlie's favourite bartender. But Hannah is on holiday.





	Moonshine

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning(s)/Contains:** Post War EWE. Alcohol. Story takes place at a bar. Slight mention of cigarette smoking.  
>  **Author's Note:** Thanks to M for the beta. All the remaining mistakes are mine.  
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Charlie slumped on the stool at the bar and looked around for his usual bartender. She knew what time he came around after his shift and always had a drink ready for him. Tonight, she was nowhere to be found.

"What can I get you?" A new and slightly familiar voice caught his attention.

"You're not Hannah," Charlie said immediately. He'd been coming to the Leaky for a while now, and Hannah was always there. But this bloke was familiar so Charlie tried to look closely.

"Well, thanks for noticing. Wasn't always sure if you were the smart one who only looked dumb, or the dumb one who also looked hot."

Charlie raised an eyebrow, glaring at the man, unsure if he'd received a compliment or an insult. "Can't be smart and hot?"

The man shrugged, "to each their own. So what would you like, Mr Weasley?"

"Which one?" Charlie asked.

"Which one what? I think you're supposed to tell me that."

"Which Weasley?"

The man rolled his eyes, releasing a sigh. "Charlie. I believe we've only been formally introduced once, about eighteen years ago, even though we crossed paths at Ginny's wedding, and Harry's…both of them."

"Longbottom," Charlie said, giving the man a once-over. "Neil, right?"

"Neville," the man said, slightly chuckling, "but close enough. Had a long day?"

"That's what Hannah usually asks me."

"That's what Hannah usually asks everyone," Neville said. Of course, now he remembered Neville. The man had been barely twenty years old the first time Charlie had met him. They had fought on the same side of the war, but it was war, and Charlie hadn't had the pleasure to gaze into those gorgeous blue eyes then. Not like he was tonight.

Neville cleared his throat and walked away; Charlie realised he'd not even ordered a drink yet.

"Here," Neville said, sliding a small tumbler of drink in front of him.

"What is it?"

"House special. First one's on me, but if you like it, the second one will cost you. Hannah left me a note saying I had to take special care of you."

"Why?" Charlie asked, surprised, and then proceeded to finish the drink in one gulp. It was good. It tasted like Absinthe, mixed with rosemary, and cola, but it wasn't fizzy. "Damn, 'was good. I needed that."

Neville smiled at him.

"So your wife's not tending bar tonight, then?" Charlie remembered reading something about Neville Longbottom getting married and all his siblings going to the wedding some ten odd years before. Except, Hannah didn't wear a wedding ring, not since Charlie had started frequenting the Leaky, and now, he noticed, Neville wasn't wearing one either.

"Ex-wife," Neville said, glancing down at Charlie's hands. "We divorced about six years ago." Charlie opened his mouth to ask a question when Neville continued. "We're still good friends, no kids, either, so it's easy. She's actually on holiday with a few friends from Hogwarts; asked me to take care of things. One of the regular barwomen, or barperson, I should say, is sick. I'm covering for her. Though, this place doesn't see much of a crowd nowadays, anyway."

"Why's that?"

Neville shrugged. "The new pub not far away — it's all Muggle themed with bright lights and poker tables — the staff wearing tight, sparse clothing, I reckon it drives the crowds there. _Sex sells_ and all that marketing jargon. We only get our few regulars, but it's not like we can shut down…" Neville pointed at the main entrance, which served the purpose of being a portal for people to enter from the Muggle world and eventually head into Diagon Alley.

"Oh," Charlie said, thoughtful. He had heard of the pub, Canto something…but never thought about going over. He liked Hannah, and she took good care of him. "Hannah might have mentioned it."

"And you didn't go over to see for yourself?"

Charlie shrugged. "I like the way Hannah pours the Firewhisky," he said.

"Right…" Neville said, looking disappointed. But, Charlie didn't mean— Was the man still hung up on his ex-wife? Did he think Charlie fancied Hannah? It was far from the truth. Hannah was sweet, and fun, and beautiful, but not Charlie's type. Not a man.

"I didn't—"

"Can I get you another, or would you like something else?" Neville asked, and as Charlie was going to reply again, Neville was pulled away by another customer. "Apologies. Be right back."

Charlie waited patiently, thinking of the ways he could tell Neville he wasn't interested in Hannah. If anything, he knew Bernard who came in on Tuesday nights was sweet on her but she barely entertained his advances.

"I'll have another one of these, thanks," he ended up telling Neville when he returned from pouring a pint for another customer.

"Excellent," Neville said with a smile. "I have been working on some of my own drinks when I'm not at the Greenhouse, so I'm glad you liked it. Unless you're just being nice…"

"Nope, it's rather delicious. I'm not that nice."

Neville smiled again and summoned a bottle pouring the liquid in Charlie's tumbler — this time, a generous amount of it.

"So have you been to Canto, yourself?"

Neville shook his head. "Not yet. Harry and Draco talk about it. Well, Draco talks about it and Harry shakes his head. I suppose, it's nice in this century there's a pub in Diagon which has openly gay nights and not something you hear about from a friend of a friend. They've been asking me to join them, to meet new people, but if I'm not helping with the accounts of the business here, I'm stuck experimenting with my plants. I'm writing a book so—Sorry, I didn't mean to bore you. No, the short answer is, not yet."

"You're gay?" Charlie asked, confused, elated, and feeling awkward at the same time. "Is this why you and Hanna—" And then he struggled for words.

_For Merlin's sake._

Charlie worked with animals all day. After spending most of his adult years working at the Dragon Sanctuary and now as a Healer for magical creatures, he wasn't used to being able to speak to normal wizards.

"I'm sorry…it's none of my business."

"Bisexual, actually. Or more… maybe pansexual. But, I've not really acted on my feelings or attractions. I'm more of an admirer from afar," Neville said, his ears turning red. "Sorry, not sure why I'm telling you all this. If you fancy Hannah and if she might fancy you back, she might kill me for totally freaking you out about my—"

"I don't fancy her," Charlie said, quickly. _What is in this drink?_ "I'm sorry. Not that she's not beautiful. I thought, actually, you might still have feelings for her, so—"

Neville laughed lightly, and Charlie thought it was a wonderful sound. He smiled at Neville who was shaking his head.

"We were in love once, but we weren't working. I love her, I do, but not in a romantic way. And she feels the same about me. She's always talking about a customer who flirts with her, but she never told me his name. I thought maybe it was you. I hope you're not leading her on…"

Charlie shook his head frantically, and then decided to get a hold of himself. "I am gay," he admitted, and Neville's eyebrows rose up. "She knows that."

"Oh," Neville said; Charlie couldn't decipher his tone.

"That's why I come here, and don't go anywhere else, or Canto. I had heard of their gay nights, from the same source, but never checked it out. I like it here. I like the…intimacy." 

"So, you're not on the pull?" Neville asked, softly, leaning down as if making sure no one else could hear them. It was nice of him to try to respect Charlie's privacy.

Charlie smirked. "When the itch becomes persistent, I manage to find someone to scratch it."

Neville's cheeks turned bright red, visible even in the dark light of the Cauldron. "I'm absolutely not surprised by that piece of information."

"I'm flattered," Charlie said, and in a moment's notice, Neville's attention was torn away from Charlie again. Another customer needed a refill, and the man did have a job to do. His attraction towards Neville had been evident from the moment Charlie had heard Neville's voice. Now to know, or well, guess whether Neville thought Charlie was attractive too, so he could make a move.

Would it hurt his friendship with Hannah? Or only if Charlie fucked it up?

"Sorry about that. Can I get you anothe—"

"No," Charlie said, standing up, and throwing a few notes on the counter. "I have to go."

"All right. Sorry if I—"

"No, it's not that," Charlie said. "I…um…sorry I'm not very good at being talking…" _Being talking?_ "What I mean is," Charlie paused to run a hand through his hair. "When's your shift over?"

"I…"

"If that's okay for me to ask you. I don't mean to presume—"

"No, presume away," Neville said with a knowing smile.

Charlie noticed as he was standing, he and Neville were almost at the same height. This was not something he'd spotted when he'd last remembered seeing the bloke. Charlie had been twenty-seven then, and now, he was over forty, and the boy had turned into a man. Furthermore, he was exuding confidence in a way that made Charlie's knees weak.

At forty.

_Get a hold of yourself._

"Can I come by and see you later, then?" Charlie asked. " _If_ you don't have other plans."

"I don't have other plans," replied Neville quickly. "It'd be a good idea because you keep distracting me from doing my job. I don't wish for Hannah to return from holiday next week and find out I'm a shitty bartender."

"Well, if it's any consolation, you're an amazing mixologist."

Neville winked. "Exactly what every scientist wants to hear," he said.

**--**--**

Charlie rushed home to take a long hot shower and wash away the stink of his day. He'd spent twelve hours dealing with all sorts of magical creatures, and some not so magical, and he was filthy.

He'd walked into the Leaky Cauldron tonight to see his friend, have a couple of drinks and then head home to crash. He'd not planned to run into a hot bloke, a bloke he barely remembered but who seemed to remember him, and wish to run his hands all over that man's body.

It was all kinds of bad idea.

Neville Longbottom wasn't some random man Charlie would pull. He was friends with his friends, his siblings, his favourite bartender. Or well, the ex-husband of his favourite bartender—if it ended up being a disaster, it'd be a _disaster_.

Still, he couldn't help himself.

Charlie had been dating for over two decades; he wasn't sure if he'd ever met a man that made his heart speed up like that, or get him all flustered. Sure, Charlie was slightly anti-social, preferring animals over humans, but when he was on the pull, he barely flinched. After having spent a little over thirty minutes with Neville, Charlie'd nearly forgot his own name.

That was something he ached to explore.

Besides, he liked the way Neville handled himself. He was confident, but not over the top, and he had a sense of humour. If anything, he was so open with Charlie, and probably with everyone he came across—it was sexy.

If he was doing the maths right, Neville was in his early thirties. He remembered reading somewhere about Harry and Neville Longbottom having almost the same birthday, which could have changed the shape of the war; if _you know who_ had gone after the Longbottom family personally, instead of the Potters.

He shuddered at the thought. It was the last thing he needed to think about while he was catering to his erection in the shower.

Charlie _wanted_ Neville. He wondered if he shouldn't touch himself before heading back to the pub and seeing Neville, but it probably wasn't a good idea to show up on a date—for lack of a better word—with a hard cock.

Neville knew what Charlie wanted. Fuck if Charlie wasn't feeling the energy radiating between the two of them; but if he'd read Neville wrong, even for a moment, Charlie didn't want to take the chance to embarrass himself.

Wanking in the shower now, and having a delayed orgasm later on, also had its perks. If Charlie managed to get so lucky, to have Neville's mouth or arse on him, he would _enjoy_ taking his time. He would love to tease Neville, not giving in or coming fast, and take pleasure in everything about the man.

The idea of it all, as Charlie stroked himself in the shower, pushed him over the edge. He came so hard, he was shocked by the intensity of it. He knew he could truly say he'd never wanked to the fantasy of having someone in the future. Whenever he wanked, it was through pornographic images in his magazines, or dirty talk via the Floo. It'd been a while since he'd simply imagined being inside an object of his desire, and come so easily.

Not at his age.

**--**--**

A few hours later when Charlie returned to the Leaky Cauldron, feeling confident and sexy, he found Neville outside the doors, a few metres away. He wasn't looking in Charlie's direction, and Charlie was certain Neville hadn't noticed him yet.

Neville's back was pushed against the wall, his one leg was propped up, his knee sticking out and he was smoking a fag. As he inhaled and exhaled, his face was tilted to the left, and his eyes closed.

Charlie wasn't sure if he'd ever met a man who emitted so much sex by simply existing. His dirty blond hair was carefree, and Neville looked like he gave no fucks. Charlie's cock, that'd just been satisfied not long ago, twitched. What was worse, was how he found himself thinking he could easily fall in love with this man.

Charlie had been a lot of things, but he'd never been desperate for a man. Neville Longbottom, in one evening, had broken through walls Charlie didn't know existed. It was poetic, and if Neville didn't want him back, it'd be nothing short of pathetic.

"As a Herbologist, I would hope you'd know those things are bad for you."

"Shit, you came back," Neville said, standing up straight and tossing his cigarette away.

"I told you I would," replied Charlie.

"I know, I just—"

"Been waiting long?"

Neville shook his head. "Just a few minutes. Long enough to have a—" Neville motioned towards the abandoned fag on the ground. "I don't smoke much. Not really. It used to drive Hannah wild with anger."

"And when you do…?" Charlie drawled.

"Only when I'm nervous. Doesn't happen much."

Charlie gave a short chuckle. "I'm absolutely not surprised by that piece of information."

Neville gave a smirk right before asking, "So, what's the plan?"

"You're free to leave?" Charlie asked, motioning his head towards the pub.

"Yep, put in my ten hours. Free to go."

"Brilliant," Charlie said and they started to walk towards the alley behind the pub. He hadn't thought much after this. Not much after what he'd do when he'd find Neville waiting for him. _If_ he was waiting for him, which apparently, he was.

"Any ideas?" Neville asked.

"Nothing in particular. Thought we'd talk, or…"

"Or?"

"I'm not good at this," Charlie admitted. Then, he thought, _Good at what? Dating? Having strange feelings for a man he wanted to fuck? Never being on a date and thinking how he'd be willing to fall in love?_ He was growing absolutely mental at his age.

"I don't date much," Neville said; Charlie turned to look at him. He _was_ nervous. He tried not to smile at the thought. Here they were, a man in his thirties, and a man in his forties, acting like a couple of teenagers.

"But…?" Charlie asked, because he totally felt a _but_ coming.

Neville grabbed Charlie's hand and before he knew it, he was in a dark corner in the alley, with no one around them, and Neville was running his fingers through his hair.

"But, I want you, and I can't wait anymore," Neville said. His mouth, wet, and hot, and wanting, was on Charlie's.

Neville was kissing Charlie, but he wasn't demanding attention, wasn't commanding, anything. He kissed like a boy kissing someone he fancied for the first time. Tentative, but firm. Eager, but resisting.

Charlie opened his mouth, allowing Neville to slide his tongue in and he groaned. Neville pressed their hips together, and he felt Neville's erection pressing against him. Charlie's hands were suddenly on Neville's hips, bringing them closer still, and they seemed to travel up, of their own accord, under Neville's shirt, wanting to touch and feel every part of his skin if he could.

"Fuck, I want you right here and now," Neville whispered, his voice shaking, his hair still in his eyes. "You smell so good right now…It's so not fair you got to go home and take a shower. I'm at such a disadvantage…" 

"I want you…" Charlie whispered. "I wanted you to want me. Tell me what you need. I'll do it. I'll make it happen…" Charlie's voice was raw, and desperate, and his hands had managed to find Neville's nipples and he was teasing him without being harsh.

"Uh…" Neville groaned. "Everything. You're so hot, Charlie. I always thought you were so fucking hot and now…I can't even tell if this is a dream, or a cruel joke on me, or…"

"It's real, baby," Charlie whispered in Neville's ear, and lightly nipped it. "I went home so I could touch myself, because of how much you turned me on. I longed to get behind that bar and drop to my knees for you…" 

"I just wanna feel you, touch you," Neville said, arching when Charlie tweaked his nipples, and he found his way inside Charlie's trousers, stroking Charlie's erection above his pants. "I'll drop to my knees right now if you want me…" His head lolled and then his face was buried in Charlie's neck, "If I wasn't so afraid I'd come in my pants."

"I'll take care of you," Charlie said, hesitantly taking his hands away from Neville's nipples he was giving so much attention to, and unbuttoning Neville's trousers.

In a moment's notice, he had Neville's trousers and pants down to his knees, and then proceeded to do the same to his clothes. He turned Neville around, Neville's hands bracing against the alley wall as Charlie nestled his cock in-between Neville's thighs, his right hand wrapped around Neville's cock.

"I want you to feel me; imagine the things I'm going to do to you when you're in my bed, love…" Charlie mumbled into Neville's ear, unsure if Neville could feel Charlie's desire for him. Neville's body shivered, and Charlie started to slide in and out of the tight space between Neville's thighs, all the while stroking Neville's cock with his hand.

He'd figured Neville had had a long day. He'd admitted to putting in ten hours at the pub, so Charlie didn't push too much. He wanted Neville, he'd kill to fuck the living daylights out of him, but they'd have time for that. He was certain of it now.

Right now, though? He needed to show Neville how much he wanted him back. How much his body was aching for him. How much of his desire needed to be released simply by the feel of his skin, the moans coming out of his mouth, and the heat flashing through them.

Neville threw his head back and rested it on Charlie's shoulder as he fucked Charlie's hand.

"Sometime soon, I'm going to need you to fuck me for real," Neville said. "Fuck…so close…"

"We have all the time in the world, sweetheart…" Charlie murmured in Neville's ear, his pre-come making his cock slick to easily sliding in and out of Neville's thighs. "All the time for me to open you up with my tongue…for me to feel that heat of yours envelop me. For me to taste your cock and your come."

"Oh, Merl—oh my—Char—" Neville moaned, his hand reaching up to grab Charlie's head, his hips bucking back, and spilling hot come all over Charlie's hand. "Please don't lie…fuck, I think I'll die if you don't do all those things to me." He sagged against Charlie, emptying out the rest of him on Charlie's hand and the alley wall they'd been fucking against.

Suddenly, Charlie was glad he'd wanked before he went to see Neville. One of them needed to have it together, as they were in a public place, and Charlie was alert of their surroundings. Even if it looked like no one was around, Neville had been very loud, and if someone came looking for them, he'd have to be vigilant and place a hiding charm on them.

When it seemed like Neville was coming to, he turned to look at Charlie. "What about you?" he asked.

"I'll be fine…"

"No, I feel so selfish. I was…I should…I mean, I want to."

"You've had a long day, and you can take care of me later."

"There will be a later?" Neville asked, sounding hopeful, keeping his face impassive.

"Yes, I'd like for there to be a later. If anything, I'd like to take you home tonight, and if you'll allow it, after a few hours of sleep, have my way with you." Charlie was tired too. He may have not spent ten hours tending bar and on his feet…but it wasn't a suffering competition.

He was tired. Neville was tired. And they both desired each other. It was the best solution.

They'd rest, and then they'd fuck, and then Charlie would make them breakfast. After spending another long and exhausting day at work, hopefully, they'd do the same.

"That sounds like the best thing in the world right now…" Neville said. "There's nothing I want more than to have you press your body on top of me as I sleep, and when I wake up, to have you inside me."

Charlie smirked. "I love how strong you are, and how you're not afraid of telling me what you want." Charlie hadn't meant to say the words aloud but he wasn't upset they'd escaped him. If the smile Neville gave him right then and there was anything to go by, it was something needed to be said.

"Take me home, Charlie. Take me home and use my body as you want."

Charlie buried his face in Neville's neck, not even bothering for them to get dressed, and Apparated them to his flat.

Even though he'd been disappointed to know Hannah had taken a holiday without telling him, her replacement had managed to give Charlie exactly what he'd needed.

Maybe, in a way, Hannah did it on purpose. He and Neville just _clicked_. Maybe she was a great friend, after all. If she'd told him she was on holiday, he wouldn't have come to the pub. And if he'd not done that…he wouldn't be spending the night with Neville in his bed. 

 

THE END


End file.
